


you broke me i guess

by surveycorpsjean



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Comfort Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Polyamory, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 20:35:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7985344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surveycorpsjean/pseuds/surveycorpsjean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a solid plan, alright? Blast open the doors to the containment unit, kick some major Galra booty, set the prisoners free and walk home a hero, mothafuckin’ Vin Deiseal style.</p><p>But Lance get's captured. </p><p>Broken. </p><p>And put back together again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you broke me i guess

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Пожалуй, ты меня сломал](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12142206) by [timmy_failure](https://archiveofourown.org/users/timmy_failure/pseuds/timmy_failure)



Look. It was a solid plan, alright?

Blast open the doors to the containment unit, kick some major Galra booty, set the prisoners free and walk home a hero, mothafuckin’ Vin Deiseal style. ‘Cause like, let’s be real, nobody looks cooler walking away from an explosion than Vin Diesel.

But, you know, plans like to go to shit, as they do.

Lance holds open the hot metal door, praying to god that alien steel is thicker than on earth. Lance feels each blast rock the metal – he counts ten shots, and then peeks around the corner, and tries to shoot through the debris. There’s at _least_ seven soldiers, all using a pile of their dead robot friendo’s as a barricade. That’s like, all kinds of fucked up, but Lance doesn’t have time to dote on it.

“Shiro!” Keith yells next to him, cowering from the blasts. “Shiro are you in?”

_“Sst-eah, but there’s a-ssht- of Gal-ssht-ips around the bay. I can’t reach my lion, and sst-scue everyone.”_

“Fuck.” Lance pulls back around the door, and feels a blast graze his hair. He looks to the crowd of trembling prisoners. They’re malnourished. Wide eyed. So filled with hope and fear, that Lance’s gut twists.

“They weren’t supposed to know we were coming,” Keith says. “Something isn’t right here."

 _“Shiro!”_ Pidge’s voice calls through the coms. _“There’s more incoming! I’m flying in-“_

 _“No!_ ” Shiro yells, _“You’ll on-ssht -aw more attention. S-sstt- clear!”_

“Shiro,” Lance grinds his teeth, “If you don’t get out of there right fucking now, I swear to god-“

A hard blast racks the door. Lance looks Keith in the eye.

Suddenly there’s talking on the coms- from all sides.

_“Ahah! Hunk you beautiful bastard-“_

_“I know, I know, I’m pretty great. Quick load everyone up-“_

_“Shiro, get on board! Hunk will fly you up to Coran and I.”_

_“And for the love of god, fix your coms-“_

“Is he safe?” Keith yells over the rapid fire.

“ _Yes! Hunk got ‘em!_ ” Pidge cheers, _“We’re picking up our round of prisoners now._ ”

Lance feels a big, hot wave of relief wash through him. Fuckin’ hell, they’re too young for this.

Keith lets out a hard exhale. Lance momentarily reaches over, and pats his thigh. Keith looks up – his eyes match his own, full of worry.

They’ve been dating since they were reunited. Since they split ways, and found each other again. It was odd and weird and nothing like on earth, but they found they didn’t _care._

Lance loves Keith. Lance loves Shiro. And there’s nothing that’ll stop him.

A hard blast racks the door. Lance pulls back with a yelp, feeling the heat soak into his shoulder.

_“Keith! -sst-ance! Get out of there!”_

“We’re working on it!” Keith calls. Lance looks back to the prisoners.

“On the count of three?”

“On the count of three _what?_ ”

“We run.” Lance stares him down. “This door is about to come loose. I’ll jump out and use it as a shield, you get the prisoners around the corner.”

“That’s dangerous.” Keith states.

“It’s _all_ dangerous. _”_

“Yeah, but-“

“We can’t wait here.” Lance stands, “Ready? One, two-“

“Wait!”

“Three!” Lance jumps out, and Keith is forced into action, ushering the prisoners as Lance holds up the door.

The metal shatters under the heavy fire; Lance pulls up his shield, and tries to catch every blast. He doesn’t risk a look over his shoulder – he can hear footsteps and shouting.

_“Lance!”_

He keeps his shield lit, and runs. Keith books it ahead of him, sword in hand, running to the front of the group.

“I’ve got the back!” Lance calls.

Guards shout behind them. Blasts ring off walls. A lady trips.

Lance stops and grips her by the arm, hauling her to her feet, and pushing her back towards the group. Fuckin’ _hell_ why are these hallways so _long-_

He turns back around to shield the blasts. Keith ushers them through a doorway, and down to the red lion.

“Come on!”

Lance turns. Keith runs- the mouth opens. Prisoners file in.

A blast catches his leg. Lance goes down hard.

Keith turns, halfway up the mouth. His eyes widen, his chest swells- he yells something. 

Lance tries to crawl. Oh fuck, he’s bleeding, isn’t he?

“Keith go!” His voice cracks. “Go! Go!”

Keith doesn’t. He jumps to help-

There’s a boot at the small of Lance’s back. A gun at his head.

_“Keith! Lance! What the hell is-“_

“Keith!” He croaks, “I love you, okay? _I love you! Shiro, I love you-_ “

 _“Sst-Lance!? What’s-_ “

The guards yell to each other- choruses of _the lion! The lion! Get the Red!_

They start blasting; Lance sees one graze Keith’s shoulder.

“Red _take him!_ ” Lance sobs, and Red does.

Scoops him up in her mouth.

Turns and flies.

The gun smacks the back of his head, and Lance sees stars.

* * *

 

The burning in his thigh is more than a wakeup call. He jolts up, chained to a table, hands pulled to either side.

There’s a doctor at his side, physically sewing the wound on his thigh shut. His eyes are apathetic. Like this means nothing.

Lance screams and shrieks, until he passes out again.

* * *

 

He wakes up in a cell this time.

Oh _fuck_ his leg burns.

Lance jolts up against the metal wall behind him. It’s cold. Alienated. A metal bed across from him. A toilet. A bowl of what he assumes is food.

He’s been stripped of his armor. Given something not too dissimilar to what they found Shiro in that day, and oh _god._ Oh god. Oh.

With slow, shaking hands, Lance reaches for the hem of his pants. He pulls them up high enough to peek at the wound.

It’s been sloppily sewed shut. He can see the thread they used to stitch it. It’s infected. Swollen. The pain is a deep throb.

Lance doesn’t try standing up. He looks to the guard pacing outside his cell.

“Hey!” Lance calls, “Where am I?”

The guard doesn’t answer. He walks left, he walks right.

“Hey!” Lance calls again, raising his voice, “Dude, what the fuck? Tell me-“

“Keep your mouth shut,” the guard turns, with a hiss. “Prorok will come to question you.”

“That dude is still alive?”

 _“Of course he is!”_ The guard snaps, “He is a wise and wonderful-“

“Yeah, yeah, okay, whatever.” Lance huffs, and slides back against the metal wall. He hisses through the sting in his leg.

The guard looks completely offended. He slides up against the bars. He narrows his eyes and growls, “Be prepared to tell the truth, or Prorok with strip it from you.”

“Sure.” Lance settles against the wall. Yeah, he’ll give the guy a talkin’ to, for sure.

The guard pulls back. Walks down the hallway with a huff.

Lance breathes in. Allura will track him down. Find him soon.

He assumes he’s on some ship? The cells look completely different from the prisoner containment unit they raided.

Yeah…yeah. They’ll find him.

* * *

 

He’s not sure how many days he spends in this cell. His leg is a constant burn. It makes him dizzy – the smell of the place is nauseating. 

It’s also boring as fuuuuuuck. Lance would totally be squirming around, MacGyvering his way outta’ this if it wasn’t for his damn leg. 

Also, their so called _food_ is enough to make him sick. In fact, it probably is, because he dreamed about a giant man-eating chicken the other night.

But there’s really no sleeping here. The guards come by and yell shit sometimes, but it could be a lot worse.

Lance sings himself songs to pass the time. Sings, until a guard shouts his way.

Then he sings louder.

 

* * *

 

At one point Lance passes out; it’s the deep kind of sleep, where it resonates through your bones.

But Lance is roughly woken up, and pulled to walk down the hallway. He lets out a howl of pain at his leg – tries to jerk out of the arms, but only gets a gun to the face.

His nose bleeds all the way down the hall. He limps and cringes, the burn consuming him.

He’s thrown onto his knees, his arms pulled behind his back, and chained. He grunts and breathes through the sting.

There’s a figure in a chair. His legs are crossed, arms too, staring him down like a king.

“Blue Paladin…”

“That’s my name,” Lance looks up. “And you’re Porky, am I right?”

 _“Commander Prorok,”_ He growls. “Commander of-“

“Oh, that’s right. You were the dude that failed to capture us,” Lance laughs, “Nice try buddy, but-“

He looks up, and is met with a boot to the face.

Lance lets out a surprised yelp. His body follows the momentum, sliding onto his side, face cracking against the hard floor. Lance lands on his bad leg. He squirms and cries.

“You will speak _respectfully_ in my presence,” Prorok snarls. He crouches down, and looks Lance in the eye. “And you will _only_ speak when spoken to, or I’ll have you dead.”

Lance blinks away the tears, looks him in the eye, and grinds his teeth.

“Good.” Porak stands back up. “I have questions, and you will answer them.”

Lance can’t sit up. He stays there on the floor.

“Where are the other lions?”

Lance feels his gut sink. _They got Blue, they got Blue, they got-_

Porak looks down at him, “Where is _your_ lion?”

Oh thank fuck.

“Dunno’.” Lance spits.

There’s the crack of something metal. In one clean movement, Prorok extends a bright, glowing staff from his hand, and smacks it right into Lance’s side.

Lance sucks in a breath to yell, but laughs instead.

 _“Ahahah, hooo boy,_ ” He squirms, now on his back, “that fuckin’ hurt, man.”

“You are lying to me,” Prorok says. “You sent your blue lion away.”

“Nope.” Lance lies, because he totally did. She _should_ be back at the hangar, a dozen prisoners sitting pretty in her mouth.

He braces himself for another hit. It stops a millimeter from his nose.

“Where is your precious princess?”

“Dead,” he lies again.

The pole smacks him in the stomach. Lance rolls in pain. Everything hurts. His eyes grow foggy.

“I am out of time,” Prorok frowns, “but you will tell me the truth when I return. One fourth’s rations for a week.”

“Perfect,” Lance purrs, and receives another smack to the head.

* * *

 

Lance is pretty sure he has a few broken ribs, because he can hardly move without wanting to die. It hurts to breathe. He can’t sing anymore, so that’s sad.

Lance rests his head against the clammy metal wall. He can’t climb into the bed, so he rests here, each breath shuddery.

He wonders if Shiro went through this. If Shiro lost his arm this way.

Just the thought of Shiro makes his chest fill with white hot affection. He closes his eyes. Thinks of Shiro’s face. Of Keith’s soft hair beneath his fingers.

Lance misses them. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, but he misses them.

They’re looking for him right now, probably.

Shiro is probably beside himself with worry – Keith is probably beating the shit out of some training robot, and yelling at everyone in his way.

Aahaha, yeah, totally. They’re both adorable that way.

Now’s not the time to feel homesick, but Lance can’t really help it. He’s just a nineteen-year-old kid, floating through space, trying? To save the universe?

He misses his friends. Pidge, and their zippy one-liners and their robot antics. He misses Hunk’s hugs too. Allura’s tough love, Coran’s happy smiles.

They’re his family, Lance realizes. All of them.

He’s not really a white knight. Lance just did what he thought was right – but if it meant them getting away, Lance would do this all again.

But every time Lance closes his eyes, he sees Keith’s face. It was blurry, through the pain, but Lance saw the horrified look on his face, as Red scooped him up.

Good Red. Good kitty.

* * *

 

The rations take a surprising toll of him. The hunger is hardly noticeable, over the ribs and the leg, but he notices himself growing sluggish.

Panicked, in a sense.

His easy going attitude is slipping through his fingers.

When Prorok appears at his cell, his heart beats through his throat.

The bars slide open. They slide shut.

Stay strong, Lance tells himself. You’re a paladin of Voltron.

“Blue Paladin…” Prorok stares him down, yellow eyes narrowed. “Have you had enough time to give me some answers?”

“Yes.” Lance says.

“Wonderful,” Prorok snares. “Where are the lions?”

Lance looks him in the eye, and says, “Up your butt and around the corner.”

The hand at his throat is quick and bruising. It lifts him off the ground. Makes his body shudder and crumple in pain.

He chokes.

He sputters.

Prorok's eyes are right there, right _there-_

Lance’s blood goes cold. He tries to kick with his good leg, but it’s already so hard to breathe.

“You think your friends will come for you.” He growls, “But they won’t. We are in a quadrant of the universe they don’t even _know_ exists – and the only reason you are still _alive,_ is because you know information I need.”

Prorok drops Lance. He lands on his bad leg, and he screams, coughing up blood.

“In two weeks we will see Haggar, and she will take what I desire. Then you will die.”

Prorok turns on his heel, and slams the prison door behind him.

* * *

 

It feels colder in here. The rations stay at a fourth, and Lance never quite grows accustomed to the hungry feeling. He coughs up blood more. His breathing has reduced itself to short, shuddery inhales, and shaky exhales.

On the upside, his leg hurts less. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing, or what, but Lance won’t risk looking at it.

It’s harder to stay awake. That’s concerning.

The guards yell more. They know they can do whatever they want, so long as he lives, so they do.

Shout things through the bars. Laugh, as they dump his food on the floor.

_Eat, little piggy._

Lance has given up on the snappy comebacks. He thinks he might’ve given up, period.

But there’s that nagging voice in the back of his head.

Two, actually.

_Stay awake._

So he tries to. For them. Because goddammit, Lance won’t let that be the last time he sees Keith. He won’t accept dying without telling Shiro he loves him to his face.

Lance just won’t accept that.

* * *

 

He can’t tell time.

Can’t feel his leg anymore.

Day? Don’t know.

Hurts to think.

Guard came today. Lance refused to eat. Can’t, really.

Got kicked in the face. Tied down to a table. Force fed with a tube and told to stay alive for _two more days._

Need to escape. Can’t die here.

Can’t walk. Dig through the floor? Can’t. Too tough. Hands are shaky. Dehydrated.

Shiro, Keith. Stay alive for them.

He’ll die in two days. Lance knows it.

He cries. The guards laugh, but Lance cries.

Home. Take him home.

* * *

 

He’s a collapsed figure on the floor. He hasn’t moved since the guard kicked him. Hasn’t bothered to sit up.

There’s a lot of noise today. They’re docking at the station, Lance assumes. Haggar will dig through his brain. Find nothing, probably. Then he’ll die.

Better than Keith. Better than Shiro. Better than anyone else.

There’s _so_ much noise. Why is there so much noise? Can’t they just let Lance die in peace?

There’s fighting. That’s new. Another prisoner?

Lance wants to move, but can’t. He can blink. Lift his head a little, but that hurts really bad.

There’s an explosion down the hallway. _More_ shouting. The alarms are going off, but it sounds really far away.

Then there’s light. So, so much light, that Lance closes his eyes and stays that way.

_“Get them!”_

_“-ro!”_

_“-there! Go!”_

There’s the sound of metal.

The horrified scream of something familiar. Lance tries really, _really_ hard to focus, but he can’t. He just, just can’t-“

 _“Lance!_ ”

Oh god, that’s his name. That’s…that’s his _real_ name.

He wants to open his eyes, but it’s so…it’s so bright –

“Oh god, oh god, oh _god-“_ the person sobs. The metal rings open. “Holy shit, no, please- Sh-Shiro! _Shiro!”_

There’s more fighting. Lance tries to move.

“Please be alive, please be alive, please be alive,” the person repeats, like a mantra, falling to his side in panicked sobs. Hands hover above him, like they’re not sure where to touch.

“Keith?” His voice sounds raw. His head hurts _so_ bad it-

“ _Lance,”_ Keith cries, and sounds broken. “Shiro! Hunk! In here- h-he’s in here!”

There’s the sound of guns. A familiar gun. Hunk’s Gatling.

Then there’s Shiro’s voice. It cracks.

“Lance.”

Lance’s chest swells so hard – so full of _hope_ and happiness and things he hasn’t felt for so long- he opens his eyes and sees nothing but white light.

But he feels himself laugh. And then it’s dark again.

* * *

 

The soft beeping stirs him. He’s lazy to wake up, eyes slowly opening. He takes in a deep breath – and really, really appreciates that.

He shifts his weight; he can stand.

Lance is in a healing pod. It’s running through the last cycle, slowly preparing to open.

All the memories rush back. All the pain, the darkness.

But Lance sees them through the glass; everyone is here, collapsed around the room, half asleep in random positions. Keith and Shiro are curled up against the wall. Allura rests peacefully in a chair. Coran is slumped up against an empty pod. Hunk snores on the table, and Pidge uses his leg as a pillow.

When the pod hisses open, the first thing Lance does is wipe his eyes.

He’s never felt so much relief.

Lance steps out, the grey suit stretching and shifting. Keith is the one who jolts awake, sitting up in Shiro’s arms.

Lance looks at him from across the room and smiles.

And Keith jumps up so fast, he elbows Shiro in the cheek;  he bolts across the room and _jumps,_ throwing his arms around Lance's neck, and making Lance sway with the weight.

“Ahah- hey!”

“I thought we lost you,” Keith chokes into the side of his neck. His arms squeeze – Lance feels him shake. “I thought you were gone, and it was my fault.”

Lance squeezes him back. Presses his nose into his hair and feels.

“Keith, be careful!” Allura slurs, half asleep. “He just woke-“

But Shiro is there, right behind him, squirming his arms between Keith and Lance and _squeezing._ Lance chokes into a laugh; the weight on his chest restricts his breath, but this is _so_ much better than the broken ribs.

So, so, so much better.

Shiro doesn’t say anything. He just stands there, face in the back of Lance’s hair, breathing in hard.

Lance swallows the knot in his throat.

Hunk and Pidge babble up to him, swatting away his lovers, clinging onto Lance and blubbering out apologies.

“We searched everywhere!”

“We went to like, _sixteen_ containment units. W-We broke into prisoner logs.”

“We haven’t slept in _weeks-“_

“How long was I gone?” Lance asks.

“An entire month,” Keith says, and sounds horrible.

“Oh…” Lance blinks, “Um…sor-“

“Don’t.” Allura holds up a hand. “Nobody is to blame.  We’re...”

“We’re happy you’re back,” Coran smiles.

“Happy is an understatement.”

Lance exhales – pushes back all the pain, and breathes in fresh air. The peaceful, safe aura of the castle.

He’s home.

* * *

 

When Lance walks into their bedroom, and sees the familiar safety of their big bed, and their little mirror, and the little knick knacks they’ve collected – he kinda’ just, breaks.

It’s not a bad break. Just.

He sobs. Cries into his hand, because he _knows_ he’s an ugly crier- and turns, to throw his arms around Shiro’s neck and hold on.

Shiro tenses, but folds into him, squeezing him close. Shiro radiates those comforting vibes that nobody else really can.

Shiro picks him up. Sets him down. Pulls him into his arms and _holds him._ Keith crawls in and doesn’t say a word.

“You did so good,” Shiro whispers.

_“I was so scared-“_

“I know,” Shiro says. “You were so strong.”

“H-How did you do it?” Lance wipes his eyes. “For so _long._ H-How?”

Shiro swallows. Keith brings a hand to rest at the small of Lance’s back, and trail soothingly up his hip.

“I…It was hard,” Shiro says. “They took my arm. But…” 

“We saw what they did to you,” Keith says, his voice wavering. It’s awful. In all the time Lance has known him, Keith has _never_ cried. His gut twists, his eyes water. “M-Monsters. T-They didn’t even _feed_ you, they-“

Lance swallows around the cotton in his throat, and buries his nose in Shiro’s shoulder.

Shiro looks at Keith. Keith inhales.

“God, Lance I’m sorry, I’m _sorry-_ “

“I missed you,” Lance says, and turns to look Keith in the eye.

And Keith kisses him, through tears and shaking hands.

* * *

 

Allura calls off duty for a while. They pull the castle somewhere safe, and orbit around a nearby planet.

 _We need a break,_ she said, a little frazzled and exhausted. There’s a unanimous agreement.

Lance sleeps for two days.

He’s only woken up by Shiro, gently sitting on the edge of his bed, a bowl on his lap.

Keith is behind him, his arm still draped over Lance’s waist. His nose is still in the back of his neck. Keith hasn’t left him – at least, from what Lance knows.

“Hey…” Shiro presses his human hand against Lance’s cheek, “You should eat.”

Lance rubs away the sleep in his eyes. He looks up and see's Shiro, silhouetted by pretty artificial light. Lance looks to the bowl in his lap, and swallows.

He can’t. Can’t eat, he can’t-

Lance shakes his head, no.

“You need to,” Shiro says seriously. His large hand smooths Lance's bangs back.

“I can’t.”

“You _can.”_

_“I-I-“_

“Look at me,” Shiro says, and Lance does. He looks right into his eyes and says, “I won’t tell you to do something you can’t do. You can eat.”

Keith stirs behind him – kisses the back of his neck and mumbles, “Please?”

Lance blinks; he comes back to himself. Thinks _oh yeah, that’s right._

He sits up. Eats the food. It feels weird; the healing pod returned his body to how it was before – his sunken in cheeks are gone, his boney arms back to normal – but it still feels _weird._

When he’s done, Shiro kisses him, really soft and gentle, and Lance rolls back over to snuggle into Keith’s chest, and sleep.

* * *

 

Lance slowly feels like himself again. Starts to eat breakfast with everyone – starts to make jokes.  It feels really good, and it’s the best coping method he’s got-

But he craves attention. Craves being near people.

He follows Pidge around the ship. Sits at Hunk’s side. Watches Coran clean. Asks Keith to shower with him – sits on Shiro’s lap and sleeps.

Nobody complains.

 _“It was quiet without you,”_ Keith says, into his palm one night.

 _“So you missed me, huh?”_ Lance smirks.

Shiro speaks into his hair, _“It wasn’t the same.”_

The words echo, as Lance stands alone, in front of their mirror.

His body is healed. Clean. Like it used to be.

But there’s a scar on his leg. A reminder.

Healing pods can’t heal scars.

It’s ugly and wide, the scar tissue stretching on tan skin. He smooths a hand over it, and feels no pain. He pushes back images – of lying in the cell, feeling his leg throb.

This is a part of him now. Repressing it won’t do a damned thing.

Move on. He _must_ move on.

And Lance will. Because he has his friends. Because he has his family. Because he has the loves of his life.

* * *

 

Lance would _like_ to stop waking up in the middle of the night, but the nightmares are haunting.

They didn’t start until a week after his rescue. Until he started really calming down, becoming himself.

He falls asleep to that table. To the needle sewing his leg. To the boot in his face and the rod snapping his ribs.

He wakes up thrashing in bed, sweating, sucking in heavy air and _shaking._ He shakes so hard his fingers won’t move – he hyperventilates, until Keith wakes up at his side.

“L-Lance?” Keith sits up, “Lance are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he repeats, and repeats-

“Shit.” Keith panics, “Sh-Shit, Shiro!-“ he nudges him awake, “Shiro, wake up-“

Lance swallows, and swallows, no, no don’t wake him up he’s okay, he’s okay-

 _“Lance._ ” Shiro says, warm and smooth and calm. “Lance, it’s okay.”

“I know,” he shakes.

“I’m gonna’ touch you, okay?” Shiro holds up his hand. Lance nods. He wraps an arm around Lance – sits up against the headboard and tugs him close. The arms are enrapturing – something to focus on.

Keith watches, wide eyed and panicked.

Lance doesn’t have the energy to feel embarrassed. It’s dark, and silent in the room. His body trembles involuntarily. Lance wants it to _stop_ – but it doesn’t, until Shiro mumbles words in his ear, and he drifts back to sleep.

It’s a lather, rinse, repeat.

The next night Lance wakes up sobbing. But Shiro is there, to kiss his  eyelids, to smooth his hands down his arms and push him back into the bed. He kisses away the tears.

_You’re safe._

Lance knows. Lance knows he’s safe.

“I want it to stop,” Lance cries.

“Time.” Shiro whispers. “Just time.”

Keith sits nearby, hands around his knees, tucked in the corner of the bed.

“How do you do it?” Lance asks, breathing slower.

“I think about you two,” Shiro says, and smiles when Lance sleepily giggles. He drifts back to sleep eventually, cheeks drying, tension finally draining.

Shiro sits up. Rubs his eyes. Takes a deep breath and sighs.

Keith stands up off the bed, and leaves.

* * *

 

“Keith?”

He keeps walking, down the hallway, around the corner, biting a hole in his tongue and willing away the sting in his eyes.

 _“Keith,_ ” Shiro presses behind him, in a forced whisper. “Keith!”

He keeps walking.

A metal hand grabs his wrist, and spins him around. Shiro stands there, exhausted, half dressed and beautiful.

Keith rips his hand back, and rubs his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. Go back.”

“I’m serious,” Shiro slides up to him, in the dark silent hallway. He thumbs at his hip, “What’s wrong?”

“My heart hurts,” Keith chokes out. He’s not very good at this – he never _has_ been.

“It’ll get better,” Shiro whispers. “Give it time.”

“He wakes up _screaming,”_ Keith barks. “I can’t even imagine what they-“

“Don’t,” Shiro interrupts, “Don’t.”

“I can’t help him,” Keith sniffs, fighting to look away. “I’m not sensitive enough. You know _exactly_ how he feels, and I don’t.”

“Lance doesn’t need you to be sensitive.” Shiro says, serious and deep, close and alluring. “He needs you to be _you.”_

Keith freezes in his arms. He looks up and blinks until the sting is gone. Shiro’s eyes are swirly and dark, but exactly what Keith needs.

“You’re holding us together, right now,” Keith mumbles.  

“ _We_ are. Together, as a team.”

Keith rolls his eyes, and smiles, “You’re such a leader.”

Shiro smiles; he leans down to kiss him smooth and slow, before leaning back, and leading them back to bed.

And when they get there, Lance is laid out, snoring and taking up the entire bed, just as he did before –

Suddenly, there’s a little hope.

* * *

 

Lance has walled himself up in the room. At least, until the flashbacks stop becoming so violent.

But Keith nearly kicks down the goddamn door one morning, training staff in hand, and says, “Get dressed, loser. We’re going training.”

Lance looks him in the eye. He thinks of two or three good responses, but says, “Is that a fucking Mean Girls reference?”

“I don’t know what that is, but sure. Come on, come on.”

“Seriously _?_ ” Lance prods, nerves making his hands a little shaky.

“Duh, come on.”

“But…”

“Psh, what? Scared I’ll kick your ass?” Keith props his free hand on his hip. He looks Lance in the eye – portrays a message that Lance reads loud and clear.

_Things can be okay again. We can do it together._

Lance swallows. Thinks it over.

Then smiles, and extends his hand.

“Not in this millennium, shitty hair.”

Keith smiles wide and pretty, and tosses the staff his way. Lance catches it, and feels his heart swell, full and hot and happy.

* * *

 

Keith is going a little easy on him, but Lance won’t complain.

They fight with staffs, bars clashing in the big training room. It smells like cleaner. The mats beneath their feet are squishy.

“Hey!” Lance laughs, and takes a small hit to the shoulder. He goes to smack back – but Keith blocks it, and spins the staff. He smiles as he jabs Lance in the side.

And Lance thinks of Prorok. Smacking him in the ribs with that staff. Kicking him until he-

But Keith is smiling in front of him. Panting, sweat rolling down the side of his face. Lance breathes – thinks of _this_ instead. Covers up those memories with Keith.

Lance sweeps Keith off his feet. He laughs until his sides hurt.

A hand grips his own, and he’s pulled to the floor, giggling uncontrollably. He just _can’t stop;_ Keith’s face was priceless. Wide eyed. Mouth open.

 _“Ahah- s-sorry!”_ Lance laughs, rolling on the floor. Keith is biting back his own smile, rolling on top of Lance.

“Stop laughing at me!” Keith jokes, and squirms his hands into Lance’s armpits, making him laugh harder. His fingers are deft and strong, slipping down to his sides, leaving his skin warm.

_“Nooo nooo ahaha-“_

Keith teases, “I said stop laughing~”. He presses his face into Lance’s neck, and kisses him once, twice, ten times, until Lance can’t breathe.

“Oh my god, gross.”

Keith stops with a half laugh and a pant, propping up to look at Pidge from across the room.

“Yo,” Lance waves, still trying to breathe like a normal person.

“Disgusting, both of you.” Pidge smirks. “I’m telling Shiro.”

“Well he won’t do a damn thing about it, ‘cause he _loooves usss,”_ Lance teases, and watches Pidge’s nose scrunch up.

“You’re all traitors.”

Keith gives a little half smile from where he kneels between Lance’s legs. Lance looks to him – breathes in the smell of sweat and Keith. Feels his body sturdy above him. Looks at where his shirt hangs off his hips – where his hair is pulled back with a rubber band.

Lance loves him. He wants to fight at his side _._

At this moment here, Lance makes a decision.

He won’t give up on this. On Voltron. On the universe.

Lance is going to get stronger, and he won’t be alone.

* * *

 

Blue can’t purr. Not really, but Lance thinks she is.

He smooths his hand over the big round shaft of her paw. She’s powerless, but Lance feels her alive beneath his fingers. He traces around what he can reach, giving her a pat, and rests his forehead against the metal.

“I missed you.”

He feels the gentle prod in his mind – it’s not so much a language. More like, impressions. Feelings.

Happiness. Relief. Worry.

“I was worried about _you_ ,” Lance smiles, and gives another pat. “I though they took you.”

Never, never. Strong, I am.

“Yes, you are,” Lance mumbles. He slides down to the floor. Rests his side against her foot, and stays there.

It’s incredibly comforting. Lance feels his soul being physically soothed. That makes no sense, but that’s how it feels.

“I knew I’d find you here.”

Lance looks up, and sees Shiro in the doorway, a shoulder resting against the frame.

“Hey,” Lance smiles. “What’s up?”

“Nothing that important. You okay?”

“Yeah! Just chillin’ with Blue here.”

She gives a little thrum. Something Shiro can’t feel.

Shiro’s eyes glisten – it's something Lance has learned to look for. Shiro thumbs at his pockets, effortlessly cool, and says, “Allura found a desolated planet with a beach. No dangerous life forms. Non-toxic ocean.”

Lance jolts to his feet, “What?! No way!”

Shiro bites his bottom lip, and smiles, “Yeah. You in?”

Lance hops across the room in three easy strides. He jumps into Shiro’s arms – who catches him, of course.

“Take me away, magic man!”

Shiro gives that deep, burly laugh, and carries him blindly that way. Lance hooks his ankles around Shiro’s back, and ruffles his hair. 

* * *

 

Alien planets are a gamble.

They’ve landed on bug infested moons and waded through fields of walking octopi – finding something relatively normal is a relief.

This planet has purpleblue skies, with water clearer than the springs on earth. The waves curl and wash up on white sand. It’s warm and perfect for swimming.

He hops on Hunk’s shoulders – proclaims himself the king of the beach, and makes Hunk wade out knee deep into the ocean.

They’re laughing, when footsteps approach. Hunk turns them around, right as Keith says, “You have a challenger, King.”

Keith proudly sits atop Shiro’s shoulders, eyes teasing, hands spread out wide.

“Oh ho!” Lance laughs, “It’s so on!”

“Guys...be ca-“ Hunk looks up, but Keith and Lance start chicken fighting, and his protests are lost.

The waves wash up to their knees. Shiro smiles, holding Keith strong, shirtless and beautiful. Lance loses focus; Keith has some goddamn washboard abs, and Shiro’s biceps are _right there-_

Lance falls into the shallow water. There’s panicked gasps- worried shouts of _Lance are you okay?!-_

But he pops up, wincing, smiling, “Ah fuck! That hurt!”

Lance knows they worry. He loves them for it, so he smiles, for himself, and for them. There’s a unanimous sigh of relief. Allura sits back down on the sand.

“You’re in for it!” Lance points with a grin, and hops back up on Hunk’s shoulders.

And their day lasts like that. Swimming in the sea. Rolling on the sand. Shiro finds a tree and passes out. Lance watches Pidge read until he forgets. About some of the bad. Not all, but some.

They’ll get back to work saving the universe, and Lance will be ready.

* * *

 

They can thank their new space lamp for the lighting. Lance saw it at some space port kiosk, and fell in love with the weird, twisty shapes of the light bulb.

Lance lays atop Shiro, kissing him idly.  Keith lays next to them, his left hand in Lance’s hair, curling and smoothing, silently watching them kiss.

They pull back slow, and kiss again, and again. That hand leaves his hair; he feels it trail down his neck, across the bumps of his spine, over his ass, and around his thigh. Keith’s hands are slender and callused, and they easily give you goosebumps.

Shiro licks into his mouth. Lance hums, and kisses back. He grinds down into Shiro’s thigh – feels a little satisfied when Shiro groans.

“I’ve missed you guys,” Lance mumbles, when he pulls back enough to see the ridges of Shiro’s scar.

Keith shifts a little closer, “What do you mean?”

“We haven’t banged in so long,” Lance says without shame. “We used to fuck so hard.”

Shiro’s face stays neutral, but his cheeks flush a light pink. Keith gives a little snort next to him, and dips his hand into the back of Lance’s sweats.

“Well…” Shiro trails off. He shifts a little under Lance, and brings up a hand to support his waist. “Um…”

“You guys are worried about me.” Lance states. He grinds down against Shiro again – grins when Shiro tips his head back and huffs. “I need this.”

“Can I fuck you?” Keith asks, hot against his shoulder.

“Is water wet?”

“That’s a yes, then.”

Lance laughs into Shiro’s collarbone, and nearly purrs when strong arms squeeze around him. Lance squirms above him, shamelessly trying to get friction.

Shiro’s dick pokes him through his joggers, and Lance pauses to smirk. Shiro hums, tilts his head and mouths against Lance’s lips, _“Nothing but trouble._ ”

Lance leans his weight into the kiss; uses all tongue and spit and everything Shiro used to hate. It’s funny, how people change.

Lance is a relatively shameless person- he kisses Shiro with abandon, tasting his tongue, pouring moans down his throat, and feeling Shiro grind against his own cock- which, mind you, feels super awesome. It makes him kiss faster, makes his body hotter.

Keith yanks down his pants, and Lance lets out a surprised sob when a slick, wet finger circles around his entrance, and stays there.

 _“Good lord,_ ” Lance chokes. He hears Keith laugh – kiss his shoulder – roll his finger to the first knuckle, then the second. It’s a burn that feels good. One he hasn’t felt in a long time.

So he closes his eyes and feels; feels Shiro kiss him deep; feels Keith slick the finger in, and out, lube dripping down his thigh. A second finger joins the first, pushing in hard, and Lance breathes through his nose, melting in Shiro’s arms.

“Ah,” Lance pulls back, “Shit, Keith-“

“I know where it is,” Keith replies, lazy, like they’re talking about the news. His fingers squirm in, dance around his prostate, and tease him to hell and back.

Lance groans, loud and overdramatic. He tries to roll his hips back, but Shiro holds him still. Damn him, and his bara strength.

Shiro grinds his hips up as a distraction, and it does the job, because Lance shivers.

“Shiroo,” Keith coos. “Kiss me.”

“Come here,” he says, and dear heavens above, his voice is doing that gravely thing. The fingers leave his ass, and Lance gives several verbal protests.

Keith slinks far up enough for Shiro to tip his head, and kiss him hard. Keith and Shiro have their own kind of special kisses. They’re warm and feisty, which is always nice to watch, but, Lance is hard as a diamond, so.

He sits up on his knees, and lets Keith fall in harder, kissing Shiro, licking out the taste of Lance.

Lance pats around for the lube. He finds it by Keith’s foot, douses his fingers, and shoves three up his ass. He bites his lip to hide the sting, but it’s _yes_ good, yes, yes good. Good pain. He curls his fingers, tips his head back. Sucks in air and feels brand new.

There’s the slick sound of lips popping apart. Two heads turn his way – but Keith is the first to close his eyes and groan _goddammit Lance-_

“Impatient,” Shiro purrs, reaching around to smooth over Lance’s thighs. His fingers meet the edge of his sweatpants, where they’re stretched between his spread knees. “You’ve been spending too much time with Keith.”

“Rude,” Keith replies without venom. He sits up to trail his still wet and _increasingly cold_ fingers around Lance’s ass. Lance meets his eyes; they’re clouded. Round, and smokey, and a huge turn on.

“Shit, _shit-_ “ Lance pants, “No, don’t mind, hah, me-“

“Roll,” Keith says, and that’s all it takes. Shiro flips Lance into the bed – Keith yanks off Lance’s sweats, and pounces, sliding between his knees to shove three fingers up his ass, and drill directly into his prostate.

_“Fuuuuck!”_

Lance actually sobs; his back arches off the bed, nails digging into the sheets beneath him. Keith has the gall to smirk – he lifts up Lance’s thigh, spreads him wider.

They fall into this so easily – and let’s be honest, sex with three people is a whole lotta’ limbs – but they _know_ each other. They know limits, and boundaries, and it just feels like home.

So Lance lays back. Curls his fingers into the sheets. Begs Keith to go harder or _fuck me already –_

So he does. Keith fucks in, thrust for thrust, until he’s buried hard and panting; Lance drinks him in, smoothing his hands over soft cheeks and uttering slurred names and half pants. It’s a slight burn that ebbs away; he draws his knees up and takes it. He’s a pillow princess – Lance is more than happy with that.

Thrust for thrust, Lance curls his tongue and mewls. Ebbs him on. Feels his cock slide hard and _deep deep,_ yes, yes, _oh, god-_

Keith’s head falls to his chest as thighs meet thighs. Lance curls a hand into his hair, and tugs. The room sounds completely obscene.

Keith starts to make more noise – Lance leans around to see Shiro, tongue buried up Keith’s ass – so he laughs.

“Shut _up-_ “ Keith slurs, thrusts slowing, “ _oh shit, shit-_ “

“Come on, baby,” Lance ebbs on. He pulls Keith’s head into kissing him, fucking Keith’s lips open – bloody hell, Lance is close. There’s the cap of the lube- Lance leans around to see Shiro, two fingers deep, ushering Keith to keep thrusting.

“ _Ahh,_ I c-can’t, I’m-“ Keith pants, “-close, _fuck-_ “

Lance rolls his hips up- Keith is buried _so_ deep, Lance can feel sweat sticking his shirt to his back. It’s good, it’s all so good-

“Keith,” Lance trails his thumb across his cheek. He leans up to kiss him, “Fuck me, or cum in me. Make a decision.”

Shiro lets out a breath behind him, and Keith moans into action, fucking up hard, making Lance open his mouth and yell.

_“Yes! Yes!-“_

Keith grips his hair. Tugs his head back. Pants against his tan neck and bites down hard when Shiro, in turn, fucks _him._

What a mess they are.

Lance is the first to come, feeling his cock rub against Keith’s bare navel – feeling Keith pant against his ear and grind so far up, Lance feels him in his stomach.

He’s then content to lay there, and watch Shiro fuck Keith right there, right on top of him. He kisses Keith because he can. Mouths dirty words and smiles so hard it hurts.

“I love you,” Lance mouths beneath his eye, “Shiro, I love you-“

And Keith comes across his stomach, eyes squeezed shut, face down in Lance’s shoulder.

They say it back. They say it into his cheeks. Into his shoulders. Against his thigh as they wipe him down, and later in the shower, lost to the steam that fogs the glass.

* * *

 

_“Lance, are you ready?”_

“Super ready,” Lance says. Blue purrs beneath him, revving with power.

 _“Alright,_ ” Shiro commands, _“Lance, attack the small turret guns. Hunk is going to tank for you._ ”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, yo,” Lance drives Blue down, rushing through gunfire, feeling the thrill of flying.

Is he scared? Yes. Is he alone? Definitely not.

Keith is in front of him, jumping from station to station, blowing up sentry robots left and right. Lance lets out a loud cheer, and shoots for the turrets, knocking out one, then two. Hunk smashes through a control tower – Pidge shouts from their lion.

_“Oh yeah! Fuck ‘em up!”_

_“Who taught you that word?”_

_“Allura, I’m sixteen.”_

There’s laughter through the coms – partially Lances, too.

He sees Keith jump on ahead – he sees his Lion run – sees Keith running that day – sees memories and more memories- but Lance pulls himself back at the warm voice through the coms.

 _“Alright, alright,”_ Shiro says, trying to hide a smile that Lance can totally hear. “ _Pull back.”_

 _“Let’s form Voltron._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://zanimez.tumblr.com/)


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